


Heated Conversation

by purpledice



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Character Death, Drunken Shenanigans, Explicit Language, F/M, Fucked Up, M/M, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpledice/pseuds/purpledice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam is most definitely a firefighter and Niall most definitely enjoys being drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heated Conversation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CosmahCosmo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmahCosmo/gifts).



> I'd like to wish a happy birthday to one of my most best friends @CosmahCosmo :) This is for you!

Niall had died eleven seconds before the building caved in. Eleven seconds. Sometimes you don’t realize how precious time is until you wonder what there could have been done over the course of such a thin amount of time. One could spontaneously sneeze their way through it, or pour just the right quantity of sugar into their recipe. Or, Liam thought, setting down that week's paper; he could have saved his best friend.

 xx xx xx

“I’ll see you tonight right?” Came the thickly accidented blonds voice over the receiver.

“Ni, I can’t tonight, you know I’m-”

“Fucking working, I know that. The lads and I all know that. Come on mate, head down to the ‘ole pub and get ‘yerself pissed to the nines!”

Liam grimaced, the sheen of sweat his thickly pressed uniform wrought him caused nothing but uncomfortableness in the dreadful summer heat. He adjusted his collar briskly before replying. “I can’t, it’s just me and Jerry tonight and he’s a year away from retiring if that says anything.” He sighed, feeling guilty. “I think I’m good next saturday... oh shit no I have to fill in for Charlie because his daughter has that recital...” he weakly laughed. “So I think I’m good for, er. Next month?”

He was met with dead silence over the other line.

“Ah... Niall?”

He blinked.

“DO YE THINK YER BEING FUNNY LIAM JAMES PAYNE WORKING YOURSELF TO GODDAMN DEATH YE BLOODY WANKER. FUCKING SAVING LIVES BULLSHIT I’LL FUCKING START MY OWN GODDAMN FIRE AT THE  PUB IF THAT'S WHAT IT TAKES FOR YOUR SORRY ARSE TO GET HERE.”

As the yelling commened on the other line, Liam held the phone gradually away from his ears, wincing at the amount of volume Niall projected when things became tense. Harry calls times like this, “the flaming cheeto,” and proceeds on ogling Louis’ face behind restaurant menus when he suspected no one else was looking. Poor lad.

However Niall’s outbursts never lasted too long, which was fine by him. In fact, after waiting a few moments, things really simmered down the next time he opened his mouth to speak, however, his friend beat him to the chase.

"It was Zayn’s birthday last week and you missed it cleaning after the lads at the station.”

Liam parted his lips to object.

“And what about last month? When I wanted to film that youtube challenge with ye and you bloody bailed out on me bitching about, ‘the accident you could feel happening,’ that night that never fuggin came. You’re not there for us anymore and everyone's startin’ ta  notice. Can’t a guy just be worried about his best mate?”

He breathed through his nose evenly. Niall was right, and just as the thought came to mind he simultaneously mumbled, “you’re right,” into the phone.

“Damn straight.” Niall gloated, “now get yer arse in gear and meet us down tonight around 8. Bring a date for all we care. Just. Be. There.” His friend enunciated the words slowly as to express them firmly. “Remember Payne, I know where you live.”

Click. He hung up.

Jesus, what did he get himself into.

xx xx xx

Niall was already drunk by the time he arrived, midway through some outrageous story that involved a crocodile and a pina colada; and not to mention the ridiculous way he could always manage to gather a crowd that would scrounge up each and every word.

“I’m tellin’ ye, all this cocksucker wanted was my drink. And I’d rather throw myself in and fight the thing then give him th-LIAM JAMES PAYNE.” And bam. He was spotted. Suddenly he was clapped on the back harshly by the very person he hadn’t seen in weeks. “C’mere ye big lug.” And well, as far as meetings go; this wasn’t the worst. “Shit man you smell like my grandads grill, ashy and dusty and ‘notta ‘nough food, speaking of; let's scrounge up some grub.” The male next to him pushed their way past the onlooking crowd, “THIS GUYS A FIREFIGHTER,” Niall yelled, boasting mercilessly; earning himself more slaps on the back. Liam glared.

“Weren’t you the one naggering me to split awhile back?”

“Yeah, well sober Niall is wanker Niall.” A drink was pressed into his palm, “bottoms up, cheers.” His friend lifted his own drink and guzzled it down greedily.

“I dunno mate if I should be drinking tonight,” Niall looked at him skeptically.

“Eh? And why the hell not?”

He fought the urge to laugh at the odd look on the others face. “You know,” he lowered his voice so as not to appear egocentric. “what if I get called in?”

And of course, Niall's big mouth had to ruin that facade. “HA! CALLED IN, WHY D’YA HAVE TA WORRY ABOUT THAT NOW,” and then, willist chewing on nearby chips he faintly distinguished what the massive sack of failure had to say next, “I DUNNO *incoherent chewing* WORRY SHIT *more incoherent chewing* AND THAT'S WHY I’D ELECT MYSELF AS PRESIDENT.”

Liam was silent for a full minute before he downed his drink in one gulp to erase that memory from history, and tried not to empty his stomach at the sight of Niall scraping away food that had slobbered all over his chin back into his black hole of a stomach.

Liam was handed another drink which he iddly sipped on. “Where’s the rest of the lads anyways?”

“Rest of the-” Ding. Not-Sober Niall suddenly remembered a passing memory from Sober Niall. The rest of their conversation went like this:

Not Sober Niall: Fucking hell *incoherent noises* *sounds of extinct predators* (Liam definitely recognized a pterodactyl somewhere in there.)

Sober Niall: Ah. What a time to be alive. The birds are chirping, flowers blooming. The Square Root of 69 is definitely not my face and your mothers because I am a good and wholesome child.

Not Sober Niall: *vomits* Eat shit Zayn. *proceeds on face-planting in said human waste*

Sober Niall: I attended Harvard once and questioned the existential crisis of whether or not robots were human souls trapped in the abyss of mechanical wastelands.

Actually, their conversation didn’t go like that at all. However Liam felt it.

“Rest of ta lads...” Niall looked around and squinted. “Over thataway I think,” and proceeded on pointing in a perhaps-bullshit direction. “Tryna find the most shit hair cause that be Zayn,” he snorted.

“Right.” Liam ordered another drink, feeling the beginning life of weightlessness spring throughout him. “Come on Niall lets-” he looked over and eyed Niall's trashed body - and try as he might the next day; the bruises he had across his body were in fact, not hickeys, but from him falling down periodically throughout the night.

Leaning to the right of the bar, he sniffed at a random drink he presumed was water and handed it to his friend. “Drink this, stay here. I’ll be back.”

The blond took a swig, “yuck, tastes like piss. And what’s that red lipstick shit on the side? Fuck.”

Liam blanched. “Er, it's their new drink, “Eau Agua.” Try it, it’s bloody imported.”

“Eau Agua.” Niall pursed his lips, taking another swig. “Eau Agua.”

“Yeah,” Liam turned, preparing to leave, not before hearing.

“BARTENDER, NEXT ROUND'S ON ME. GIVE EVERYONE SOME OF YER WORLD FAMOUS EAU AGUA. FUCK I’VE NEVER HAD ANYTHING LIKE IT.”

He barked out a silent laugh, twisting through the sea of people grinding various body parts on one another. Liam recalled faintly something Niall had said to him once, “grab that hose and use it on all these hoes.” Too bad his love game wasn’t as strong as his firefighting abilities. If he could even call it that.

Sure enough Not Sober Niall had been right and shortly after blinking through the harsh fluorescent lights he found Zayn coddling what looked to be a fucked-up Harry.

“Hey lads,” Liam sat down at their seated table, watching Zayn press an iced napkin to Harry’s cheek rather boredly.

“Liam!” Zayn cheered over-enthusiastically, glad to have an actual sane person joining them for the moment.

“OW FUCK ZAYN.” Harry grimaced, pain escaping through his moody stupor as he quickly grabbed the napkin from his otherwise, over-produced friend.

“Shut it you baby,” Zayn bit back, relief flooding through his system at his now-free hands.

“Glad to see you guys too,” Liam chuckled, the slightest slur breaking through his lips. “Christ Harry, what war did you just come out of?”

Zayn made silent gestures for him to drop the conversation but he flipped him off easily.

Harry swiveled his head over and eyed Liam venomously. With a voice to cut through steel armour he growled, “Not. Now.” And turned his cheek as though nothing had happened. Liam shivered, Harry was definitely the worst of the bunch when it came to being utterly pisssed off.

'Liam,’ Zayn mouthed at him inconspicuously. ‘Turn around,’

And that's when Liam saw it. Or, the thing in question was more of a ‘he,’ then an it. The he in question being Louis Tomlinson, completely trashed off his rocker; and from one angle you might have thought his general proximity to the bloke opposite him was close due to the inability to hear anything past a three-centimeter radius. But no, they were definitely not undergoing heated conversation, as was the other gentlemen definitely _not_ fondling him through his jeans.

Liam turned back around and found Harry’s hurt eyes tracing Louis’ every move like he was an ethereal serpent and his tiny prey had grown legs and could now tower over him. Fuck, he was shit at analogies too.

He nodded at Zayn in understanding. Even though none of them have said it, there was always a change in weather when it came to Louis and Harry. It was an unspoken rule to leave it be, nonetheless not quite knowing what “it” was.

“Here mate, you need it more then I do.” Liam edged his glass towards Harry, who proceeded on chugging it down his throat, nearly glass and all.

“So Liam,” he set his gaze towards Zayn; who was now addressing him. “Been busy lately yeah? Must be a lot of work down at the station huh?”

He sighed, “I just tend to get a little paranoid really nowadays, always fearing for the worst.” He glanced at the condensation forming on Harry's glass. “I’ve seen a lot of shit Zayn. And it’s funny ‘cause I keep on doing it.”

He looked up and had not one, but two sets of eyes gazing up at him. Harry being the surprise second, taking his focus away from Louis, lips parted and mind pondering through Liam’s words.

“I understand.” Was all the curly haired-lad had to say however, before his eyes once again pushed passed behind him.

“I’m sorry mate.” Zayn spoke up, “there’s always room down at my studio if you need it.”

Liam attempted a weak smile, “I’d make a shit camera-man and you know it.”

“Ah, well all art is shit at its heart,” Zayn attempted but it was no use. He’d had this job for over seven years. And well, even though it wasn’t the longest by some standards, it was still a lot to give up. He hadn’t even bothered to get a proper degree, for one. Through a family friend he had managed to snag the job, and to think, he was still in school at the time and had never expected it as a lifelong career. And well; school finished shortly afterwards and he was well... stuck.

“Fuck you and your artistic endeavors,” Liam slurred unashamedly, half-finished drink in hand. “Never give it up Zayn, it makes ya happy ya bastard.” He smiled. Drunk Liam was friendly. (er)

“Whatever,” Zayn smirked, showing appreciation in his own silent way.

“At least we know tha-”

“SCREW YOU, YOU FUGGIN TOE EYED PRICK, GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME.”

Out of his peripheral vision Liam knew, without a doubt, that it was Louis.

“That wanker,” Zayn breathed through his nose as he looked onwards at the scene before them. “Third guy this week, see Harry; glad you’ve finally matured and haven’t stepped in on this one this-”

Harry was gone.

“This is usual?” Liam questioned, pressing his boundaries.

“Oh yeah,” replied Zayn. “How d’ya think Harry got that shiner earlier? Would’ve won too - if it wasn’t for the other guys’ friends.”

“And so what? We just sit here?”

The other guy nodded and raised his hands defensively, “I dunno ‘bout you Li, but I say let the idiots run wild.”

Liam could drink to that.

“Harold.” Louis replied stormily from a distance, posture tense and hurt flickering into his eyes upon scanning the others busted face.

“Louis,” Harry said in return, pronouncing it more like _loo-iss_ for times when he was feeling thoroughly indignant.

“Oi mate, sod off.” The stranger previously groping Louis shouted, sweat and liquor running down his throat. “He’s with me, we’re about to leave.”

For a moment, it was almost as though Harry had completely forgotten the others presence, completely captivated on the man he couldn’t help but glance at for the entire evening. But now, things were different. Harry most definitely registered him, as was the curly haired-male most definitely seething with rage.

Due to his towering height, Harry gripped the collar of the drenched unknown and brought his abhorrent features close to his own. “Don’t you _ever_ ,” Harry incensed, eyes blown, “ _ever_ touch him that way again. Do you hear me you selfish, sod awful, nihilistic, cun-”

“OI, HARRY!”

Liam blanched as Niall pushed his way through the parted crowd, staggering legs and all. Obviously he was out of sorts, if not for the matted hair and disheveled features; then the empty glasses by his side would most definitely do the trick.

“That idiot,” Zayn breathed.

Liam agreed.

“HARRY, HARRY, HAROLD, HENRY,” Niall clapped his hands on Harry’s quite obviously tense back; during the process however it was nearly as though he was crossway between a pat and a hug, and due to lack of coordination; ended up crushing the glass in his palm in scattered bits throughout the dance floor. “OOPS,” Niall chortled and began laughing down at various shards.

Harry's nostrils flared and his grip tightened.

“WHO’S THIS BUGGER YE GOT HERE. DID YA...” he paused, gasping for breath. “DID I INTERRUPT SOMETHING EH? GO GET ‘EM LAD.” The blond winked, making harsh innuendos with his fingers.

“Harry,” Louis tried, adding reason to the situation. “Look I lead him on, just sod off and let the guy go. You don’t have to keep -”

“Louis.” Harry bit. “Shut up, before I do something _very_ very bad.”

“WEE LADDIES GONNA GET ‘IMSELF LAAAIIIIDD.” Niall sung into Louis’ ear.

Liam stood up.

“Don’t,” Zayn tried to warn him.

“You know Niall's gonna bitch about it in the morning if he gets permanently removed from the pub,” he sighed.

Zayn made a face that most clearly read ‘ _not my problem,’_ as Liam yanked Niall away swiftly.

“AYYYE LIAAMM BUDDY.” Oh dear lord.

“Niall would you quiet down,” Liam pressed.

“Ayyye Liammm buddy.” Niall whispered, tears of laughter pealing down his face.

“You’re causing a bloody disturbance you wanker.”

“N-no I’m not.” Hiccup. “Th-these are my.” Hiccup. “Friends.”

Not Sober Niall and EXCRUCIATELY Not Sober Niall are two completely different entities.

For example:

Not Sober Niall: *talks about crocodiles and pina coladas.*

EXCRUCIATELY Not Sober Niall: *the result of sticking a potato in jello mold.*

Although who was he to judge, Not Sober Liam was swiftly taking into full effect.   

“C’mere let’s go sit with Zayn alright?”

A crowd was most definitely starting to form around them. Fuck.

Niall jerked away from him with as much coordination and grace that he had in him... which was none.

Gesticulating towards the crowd he hollard; “NEXT ROUND'S ON ME,” which earned cheers of gratitude throughout their enclosure and then, willist cupping his lips, “Liiiiammm we gotta party tonight.”

At that point in time there were only two options presented before him. Option 1: Get the hell out of there and sleep off a potentially mediocre hangover, or Option 2: Get filthy wasted.

Glancing back over at Harry and Louis, he was at least relieved that Harry’s grasp on the stranger was no more, in fact - he couldn’t see him anywhere. Which was odd considering Liam was quite sure the swift amount of time he wasted with Niall was no match for Harry's impeccable rage.  

“Hey Niall d’ya...” he paused, wincing through the sudden pounding in his head and definite ringing in his ears. “Shit mate,” and everything became blurred.

He blinked.

Liam recalled this sensation before, this feeling. It was like he was weightless, body pushing through the thrum of endless current.  The neon lights around him faded, twisting into a sneer of entrapment. He knew this feeling, knew it like the sweat running down his palm, or the way his brain felt like mush, in and out of focus.

And as his brain leered wildly among the sea of people, he recalled feeling this sense of weightlessness before. He knew it. He...

_The click of cameras flashed in the distance as fraternity members huddled around the blond in broad anticipation._

_“CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG.” They cheered, beer rushing down Niall's pinkened cheeks._

_“OI NIALL, NOT THE GLASS TOO.” Louis laughed, eyes shiny and drunk enough to be lazily touching ankles with Harry._

_“You fucker,” Penny Harrison (co-leader of said frat) cried dramatically as she pinched Niall’s cheeky grin as the jug was slammed upon the ancient bar._

_“Pennnnnnn-kneeeee.” Niall slowly declared, slinging his arm over her shoulders and slowly leaning in. “There's always something’ I wanted ta - GLRRRRG.” Niall emptied the contents of his stomachs on both their shoes. Shit._

_“Right-away here lad.” Liam broke free of his previous engagement and swiftly dragged Niall down the hallway towards the nearest restroom._

_“I’ve butchered everything,” he moaned into his sleeve, tucking his longer strands of hair over his ears._

_“Shit don’t say that Ni, she was definitely eyeing you.” Liam winked, while grabbing the nearest hand towel._

_“I’ve liked her so long, and it’s just.” He sighed, grabbing the towel from his friend. “Shit. I haven’t even had a proper girlfriend.”_

_“Oh?” Liam quirked his brow. “Well that's not what Rebecca from -”_

_Niall quickly interjected. “That doesn’t count. I was pissed.”_

_“You’re filthy pissed now though!”_

_Sighing, Niall quickly finished wiping himself down. “I still want her even when I’m not._

_Liam made way and watched his friend swiftly pat himself down before exiting the room._

_“Jesus,” he fixed his hair._

_An hour and many shots later, he found himself hot and compressed between two unknown women._

_“Haven’t seen you around here before,” the brunette giggled, playing with the buttons on his shirt._

_“Carrie how could you be so dense. That’s Liam Payne.” The redhead snapped her gum, acrylic nails digging into his shoulder-blade in the most un-sensual manner._

_“Mmhmm,” Carrie, the brown-haired woman muttered; lips dancing across his neck. Fuck, where was he?_

_“You know,” the redhead stated louder, voice painfully high pitched into his eardrum. “Liam Payne, the FIREFIGHTER.”_

_The brunette ceased in her movements and looked up in him. “Oh wow. You were definitely the word around here not too long ago.” Her hands traced his shoulders. “Fit, young guy with university practically jumping his pants and yet -” she popped open a button. “You decide you have life all sorted out, unlike all of us here.” She gesticulated towards the party._

_“Nghhhs,” Liam garbled, suddenly finding the disability to form a coherent sentence. “Hot. Need...air.”_

_“Well why didn’t you say so silly,” the two directed him to the far corners of the room, ventilation blowing sweat off his forehead. Behind him, he noticed as his shoulder was pressed firmly against it; a glass patio door that held entrance towards outside commotions._

_His jaw fell slack against itself, foam seeping out of his lips. Okay shit, his drink was definitely laced. “What did...” he panted. “Drink.” He felt dizzy._

_“Feels nice right?” The redhead smirked. “It's just something we gave you so you can have extra fun tonight.” Okay. Not good. Definitely not good._

_Shit Payne. You can walk. Try walking. Goddamn it you can - “Gluuug.” He groaned as his body fell on the woman closest to him._

_“Careful,” she breathed. “I got you.”_

_And suddenly pressure was on him. Lips. Red lips. Lips that smelt of cigarettes and toothpaste, causing him to faint internally. Saliva dribbled down his chin as he turned his face quickly, leaning it on his shoulder. “No... no.” He managed to say, “Where Niall. Get... Niall.” His eyes closed._

_Hands closed around him once more, and upon further speculation, noticed that they both were eyeing them strangely._

_“Niall?” Carrie asked nearly the same time the unknown red-head stated bluntly, “you gay?”_

_“Ni-all.” He tried once more panting._

_They removed him harshly from the glass behind him and propped him upside an adjacent wall. “Look, fag, I don’t see what your problem is -”_

_And that's when he saw it._

_There was three of them, maybe four, surrounding his friend outside. Except Niall wasn’t standing, merely hunched over, cradling his stomach as Penny encouraged the enraged jocks from a distance._

_“And if you FUCKING think you can just, use your perviness on my friend and I here then you can fucking -”_

_“Ni-” His hoarse throat interrupted them, his head crooking wildly to the left as his gaze followed through the glass barrier, his figure immobile to the occurrences taking place._

_“Oh is that Niall?” The redhead crooned upon seeing the commotion outside. “Your fag friend?”_

_“Make... make it... stop. Stop.” He hissed, choking on the fluid rushing manically out of his mouth._

_“Oh look Carrie, front row seats to the fag show. Cause you know, like, they’re FAGS.” She sniggered._

_“Ohh I bet he deserves what's being done to him.” Carrie replied, her body closing in on Liam's face as Niall was bound by two men and repeatedly punched by the third. Punch. “I bet.” Punch. “They’re gonna chop him up.” Punch. “Into tiny little pieces.” PunchPunchPunch. “But not before they RAPE him.”_

_“N-no.” He tried to push past them, but they latched onto his shirt like feeding leeches. “N-NO.” He yelled once more, jerking his arms and feeling the crunch of contact._

_“YOU MOTHERFUCK-” The redhead screamed, “YOU BROKE MY NOSE.”_

_“You BROKE her NOSE.” Carrie cried as she beat into his chest, causing his body to hit the floor with a violent thud. Heels pierced into his skin as they walked away from him, crowd parting upon sight of blood, then quickly resuming their natural process. It was too late a party for sanity to remain._

_He lay there panting, limbs sore and flailing as his aching skill reached beneath him in order to pick himself back up. “God-” He breathed harshly, falling back down onto the pitiful flooring._

_Okay Liam, you can do this. You can? He tried to think of something he COULD do. And due to his current state... well, there wasn’t much. Running was out of the question, in fact; he was completely reduced to anything that was beneath two years of age. And what could babies do? Crawl._

_He narrowed his eyes as he positioned himself, perspiration forming in tiny beads. Bringing his arms beneath himself, he gradually began moving towards his desired location. “Ni-all.” He cried, bangs brushing his brows as his friends busted face came to view. If he could even call it a face._

_Faster Liam faster. His chewed nails drug against the door, opening it from an uncomfortable position while high certainly had him at his match._

_Okay, door successfully open. He carried himself forwards, chest making contact with slick, dewy grass._

_“Aggghh.” Came the gargled strain of his friend, cheek lopsided and face surely dented._

_“C’mon guys.” Penny turned her head around. “Think he's had enough yet? You’re gonna fucking kill him Johnny.”_

_Johnny, Liam presumed, glared at her with a face of full malice and discontent. “Fuck no Penny. This guy tried to get with my girl, and you know what happens,” he picked up a bat, “when someone tries to mess with my things.” The bat was swung, and screams rose from nearly every direction. It wasn’t until heads swiveled towards him did he realize that the screams were in fact his._

_“Well lookie what we have here.” Johnny dragged the bloodied bat across the ground, creating harsh imprints._

_“T-that’s Liam Payne Johnny.” Penny stammered. “He, he works at the station yanno? The one beside that coffee shop. Y-you don’t need to. You don’t need to h-hurt.”_

_“Someone shut her the fuck up.” The crazed male seethed. “So...” He leaned down and gripped Liams hair, pulling his face up roughly. “You’re a sick fuck huh? Like seeing your friends getting all beat up yeah?”_

_Liam spat, fluid flying in a completely opposite direction. The other let out a throaty laugh._

_“You’re pretty fucked up yourself from the looks of it. Who's your dealer? I won’t tell.” His eyes let out a cackling grimace. “Or at least, your mate here won't. From the looks of it, he won't even make it through the night.”_

_Liam screamed, dragging himself forwards on the grass._

_“Nonono. Stay. Right. There.” A harsh pain erupted on his spine, causing him to lie stilllike, dirt crumming up upon his skin._

_“Now,” the man reached into his pocket, pulling out a lighter. “Where were we.”_

_And everything went black._

**“They’re all screaming in a caged room,**

**oh little one don’t you see?**

**And the wind dropped rats**

**and the butchers wife cried,**

**‘we have a feast to feed thee.’”**

“Liam? Liam? Liam? LIAM? Someone call an ambulance something's wrong, he's not waking up.”

Needless. Or what felt like needless, prodded at his skull, pricking his skin.

Breathe. Just breathe.

“Liam? Oh god Liam please we can’t lose you too.”

Crying. Something wet fell on his shoulder.

His ears rang with an unnerving force, screams penetrating his ears as his shoulders shook roughly.

“Louis...” he coughed, eyes closed as he recognized the voice. “Stop... stop screaming. I need to... I need to sleep.”

His shoulders were shook once more much to his annoyance.

“HARRY. HARRY DO YOU HEAR THAT? ZAYN. HE’S AWAKE.”

“S-Stop. He swatted as hands touched his skin. “Let me sleep.”

“Nonono Liam. Don’t go to sleep, stay awake for me mate c’mon you can do it.” Zayn.

He didn’t understand all the fuss, everything hurt and he felt drowsy; so that guaranteed him some sleep. Besides, whenever he slept he got to see Niall. He would never tell the lad, but he had been a frequent contender in all his dreams lately.

 _‘Niall,’_ he called out to his dream. ‘ _Niall where are you?’_

Silence.

 _‘Niall?’_ he tried frantically. _‘NIALL?’_

Nothing.

Lurching forwards, he opened his eyes in shock - memories flooding him swifter then the fragile tears that would never come.

“Something's wrong,” he shook into Zayn's shoulder. “I need you to get me N-Niall so I know that I-I’m not crazy.”

Zayn looked at him with sad eyes as the crowd beyond them parted once more and a smiling Niall came into view. “What the fuck mate, yer shakin’ like a leaf.”

"Liam?” Zayn questioned and turned behind him to decipher the origin of Liam's stare.

“Wha-”

“Niall.” Liam pointed, enthusiastically, waving his arms. “It’s just bloody Niall.”

“Oh Liam.” Louis whispered, tears brimming in his eyes. “You know he’s not there.”

“Y-yes he is there.” He looked once more at the wavering image of his friend.

“Then why are you crying?”

Liam touched his face. It was wet. “I don’t.... I don’t understand.”

His eyes looked over at Niall, the wavering boy in the distance. Looking at him with cold, desolate eyes, a figment in which he could see. Taking his hands Niall brought them over his shoulder, and with one final nod; swung them again and again, at an invisible target - in which he feared but knew, was himself.


End file.
